Full circle
by provencepuss
Summary: A sad musing. An enigma - it's up to you to draw your own conclusions.


Beginnings and Endings/Full Circle

Lieutenant David Starsky rolled another joint and carefully licked the paper; he twisted the tips and flipped open his Zippo. Lighting the end he leaned back against the palm tree and inhaled deeply.

His life seemed to have gone full circle.

He gazed out at the ocean. The waves rolled in and broke on the rocks below him. He'd seen men broken on rocks like that. 'Throw thyself down' wasn't that what Satan was supposed to have said in the story of temptation? Oh he'd read the whole damn book; the Torah and the sequel. It still made no sense to him. If there was a good god up there how come his life had hit the shit so damn often?

He drew on the joint and felt the smoke rise from his lungs and curl out of his mouth and nostrils at the same time. The third drag brought the familiar welcoming light-headedness.

He leaned back against the sharp rough palm trunk and sighed.

After a while he stood up and scrambled as best he could down to the beach below. His leg was hurting badly again. The doctors had warned him enough times. "Take it easy or it will never really heal." But Dave Starsky was not a man to take things easy. The leg had finally healed but the pain would be with him for the rest of his life. Creeping up on him when he least expected it….like the day he'd met Hutch on the assault course at the Academy.

* * *

"_Hutchinson, get your sorry ass over those obstacles!" _The training sergeant showed no mercy to the shy blond who was the star of the classrooms and the dunce in the field. His first attempts in the firing range had been greeted with derisive grins and whistles. What was worst he had stepped up to fire just after the star of that particular show – Dave Starsky. Starsky's bullets had made a neat clover-leaf pattern in the center of the target. There was only one hole on Hutchinson's target too….way off the colored rings and made by a lucky shot. Now Ken was looking at the wall and wondering how in the hell he was ever going to get over it without a fireman's ladder. He ran towards it and jumped in a desperate attempt to scrabble up and get a hold on the top. He failed and stood looking at the obstacle wondering how to take it on now that he didn't have a run at it. He hadn't noticed Starsky standing to one side. "You need a leg-up?" Starsky said quietly. Ken noted that the other man had a drawn expression on his face; as if he was biting back pain." "Are you OK?"

"Yeah." He managed to turn it into a three syllable word. "I just need to …uh…get my breath back." Since Starsky's breathing was hardly visible Ken knew that wasn't the case. He decided not to push it. Starsky had a reputation amongst the recruits for a short fuse and a sharp tongue. Ken looked at him. He could hear the sergeant coming to the other side of the god-damn wall. "Yes; I guess I could use a little help." Starsky grinned and made a step with his hands. Ken put a foot into the support and up he went. He grabbed the top of the wall and heaved himself over to drop down carefully on the other side. He fell as he landed and out of the corner of his eye he saw Starsky land on his feet and run on to the next obstacle without acknowledging his presence.

_We got each other's asses over a fair few obstacles over the years. _Starsky reflected as he sat against on rock in the warm evening sun.

The obstacles were sometimes physical and sometimes mental. The two men had become a team; more than the average cop partnership they had an almost symbiotic unity. Once they had worked with a psychic on a case. Despite his love of tall stories and tabloid nonsense; it was Starsky who had been skeptical about the man's powers. When he asked himself why he realized that it was because he still hadn't come to terms with the similar relationship he had with Hutch. Sometimes he felt he could anticipate the other man's every move.

But he hadn't anticipated the last one….and now he was on the beach lighting another joint.

* * *

They were friends almost from the start. The barriers came down after the wall. Starsky felt comfortable enough with the big blond to relax and allow his natural intelligence get him through the class work. He quickly called his new friend "Hutch" and that broke down some of the blond's reserves too. For a short time they were a trio but when John Colby dropped out to join the military (to Starsky's bemused horror) the 'Three Musketeers' became the 'Odd Couple' and not long after that they were simply 'Starsky and Hutch'. The friendship raised a few eyebrows. Street-wise, hot–tempered Starsky with his dark past that he tried to keep hidden behind deep blue eyes seemed the least likely friend and partner for the slightly aloof; 'well-bred', Nordic college educated Ken Hutchinson. But opposites can attract and the magnetism was almost palpable in the air around them. They graduated at the top of the class; the few marks that separated them balanced each other out. Starsky was the best shot in the Academy and Hutch was better at studying.

"_Wow, I've never seen shooting like that!" One of the recruits said as Starsky's target slid back to be assessed. "He was a sharpshooter in the Army." Another voice whispered._

_Ken looked Starsky who was looking at his gun with an air of distaste, and wondered why if he disliked the thing so much he had decided to follow a career that would mean he carried a gun every working day of his life. Starsky slipped the gun back into its holster and adjusted his cap. As he walked past Ken he said "I could shoot the balls off a gook at fifty paces…but I didn't have the heart to do it to the guy." He grinned broadly and saw that Hutchinson was wondering if he was kidding or not. _

Sitting on the beach Starsky shook his head and wiped away a tear. 'I never did tell him everything about those years."

* * *

They weren't assigned to the same precinct and Starsky soon showed a talent for driving that left his partner feeling car-sick more than once – and a fugitive trapped in a blind alley even more often. He also drew on his past to advance his career. He had 'connections' and within six months he was out of uniform and assigned to Parker Center. Harold C. Dobey believed in God and the possibility that this wild-haired young man had been sent by the Almighty to try his patience crossed his mind more than once. Starsky showed a certain disregard for the rules – but never actually broke them. His fellow officers wore ties and jackets; Starsky turned up looking like he had supplied his wardrobe from a thrift shop. Other cops kept their hair well cut and groomed; Starsky's wild curls fell way below his collar. But he was good at his job and Dobey knew that it wasn't worth the breath to remonstrate with him about dress codes. Hutchinson passed Detective exams as soon as he was eligible to take them and Dobey was the subjected to Starsky's daily pleading that his 'buddy' should join the team.

Dobey was a man who preferred a peaceful life and soon Hutchinson was sitting at the desk opposite Starsky.

* * *

"_So who do we trust?"_

"_Same as always; me and thee."_

That philosophy saw them through murder attempts and personal loss; challenges to their friendship and physical pain. Starsky's dogged loyalty had pulled Hutch back from the brink of addiction and disgrace. Hutch was convinced that it was his refusal to believe that Starsky would die after taking a string of bullets in the back in the Police garage that kept his partner alive.

_We always fought back buddy; so why didn't you put in that extra effort this last time?_

Starsky looked at the pouch in his hands. He had enough for one more smoke; then it would be time. He sprinkled the last dried leaves onto the paper and hesitated; he decided not to break up another cigarette, this last stick would be pure. He narrowed his eyes against the glare of the sun reflected of the water. Normally he would be wearing shades to avoid a migraine set off by the bright light flashing in his eyes. This time it didn't matter.

* * *

Starsky was in New York at his brother's wedding when it happened. He had been worried about Hutch before he left. The blond was having trouble coming to terms with the results of the tests.

Lily Starsky's pride glowed like all the candles on the Hanukah Menorah. Starsky held his mother's hand tight as Nick finalized the ceremony by stamping on the glass and turning to kiss his pretty wife. Nicky had not just calmed down after his show-down with Starsky all those years ago. Chastened by what had happened with Stryker; Nick had returned to New York and taken a night school course in law. It wasn't academic fireworks but it was enough for him to take a job as a legal assistant. Now he was marrying his boss's daughter.

Starsky escorted his mother all through the party and then took her home. The light on the answering machine was flashing. His mother disappeared into the bathroom and Starsky pressed the 'play' button. Dobey's voice told him to come back as soon as possible.

He stood and stared at the body. When Jessie pulled out the drawer she threw him a warning glance. He's seen so many corpses; why should she be worried about him seeing this one? His mind wandered through a gruesome exhibition of ripped bodies and flesh; murder victims, kids who had stepped on mines in a paddy field; his girl friend with a bullet in her brain; his father…blood pouring from the hole in his head.

He looked down as Jessie pulled back the sheet. He understood why she had been concerned about his reaction. Drowned bodies bloat. Hutch's handsome features were distended and almost unrecognizable.

Jessie handed him an envelope. "He left this for you."

He didn't need to read it – he already knew.

_It's best this way buddy. I'll always be there….Me and Thee._

* * *

He licked the edge of the paper and rolled the thin tight stick. He flipped the Zippo again and lit it. As the smoke invaded his lungs and the narcotic effect hit his brain he went over the rest of his life during the past fifteen years. He gave up wiping away the tears and stared though the mistiness at the glowing end of his last smoke. He held the roach with the tips of his fingers determined to get the last few drags from it. When he had taken the last sweet inhalation he made a hole in the sand with his finger and buried the smoldering remains.

He stood up and undressed.

Up on the cliffs a young jogger saw him walk into the sea.

* * *

Lieutenant David Starsky rolled another joint and careful licked the paper; he twisted the tips and flipped open his Zippo. Lighting the end he leaned back against the palm tree and inhaled deeply. The pain was much better now.

He gazed out across the ocean; home was out there somewhere and they would be shipping him back next week. He leaned against the palm tree and squinted against the bright reflection of the sun on the water.

He had already made up his mind. As soon as he was fit enough he was going to do what he should have done before the draft got him. He'd sign up at the Academy and follow in his father's footsteps.


End file.
